His Funeral
by Katie1995
Summary: Esme hasn't had to think of that man for years, but when his funeral comes round, she can't keep her self from attending. :Angst: Please R&R


**A/N – (I don't own twilight or the characters in any way. All credit goes to Stephanie Meyers)**

**His funeral**

**Esme's P.O.V.**

Everyone was out; Carlisle was at work, Rosalie, Alice, Edward, Emmett and Jasper were at school. I, understandably, was at home...alone. I had plans, yes, but I didn't intend for anyone to find out. Carlisle, if her knew, would be worries for me, and that in itself, wasn't something I wanted him to be worrying about. Edward, now gone, couldn't hear me and so my thoughts were safe. But Alice, Alice would know my plans as soon as they were made and so placing the newspaper back down in its original place on the kitchen island, I walked towards the living room with the words still whirling around in my head.

Of course, normally I wasn't such a morbid person, but today the page seemed to fall perfectly open and blatantly tell me something I had not thought of for more than half a century.

Charles Evenson, my human husband, dead.

Sitting down, I switched the telly on to distract myself. The newspaper hadn't done me any good, and so it was left to the TV, but like usual, it didn't work.

Why did I bother even looking at the births and deaths page? I hadn't a reason to why I needed to, and yet a nagging voice from inside my head beckoned me to do so. Coincidence or conscience, I didn't know.

Frustration took over and I buried my head in my hands, sighing while ruffling my curls as I ran my hands through the ringlets of caramel locks. Carlisle wouldn't have to know, and Alice? Well, I was sure she could keep a secret.

Running upstairs, I changed my shirt with a flowing black shirt that included an empress line. My hair was next as I brushed desperately through the knots, my eye continuously darting from each side of the room. Applying a small amount of mascara and blusher, I made the verdict that I looked somewhat respectable at least.

No-one would even know me, so why did I bother? I knew why though; it because through all my years living with him, my appearance was what mattered most. What I did now was simply habit.

Slipping out the front door, I took Carlisle's other car that was originally for me. I declined, too shocked to agree that he spent so much money on me; a car was just too much, and so now, we...shared it, let's say.

We only lived a couple of hours away from Ohio, and so it was only a couple hours driving. The rain continuously pelted down and the day was as dismal as the reason I was driving. I knew the church very, very well, and so getting lost was something that would not – or could not – happen.

My hands were what usually betrayed my emotions, along with my eyes. My hands, although placed tightly around the steering wheel, still trembled with fear of the unknown.

As every signpost noted the distance I had left, the shaking got worse and I had to pull over for the sake of the other drivers. I couldn't think straight any longer, and so I allowed myself to turn the car engine off. I had no support and it was starting to weigh down on me even though I knew I should do this myself.

Closing my eyes I brushed off the worries and forced myself to go further.

The road seemed so long and ever stretching, but as I allowed the car engine to purr back into action, I knew it would go far quicker. I felt queasy, but still, I had to go.

Driving again, my nerves calmed slightly, allowing my torn thoughts to gently patch together again. The last turn, however was painful. Twice I stalled as my self confidence left me, but it was third time lucky for me, and finally I made it onto the road that led down to the church.

Memories bombarded me from every direction. I hadn't been back to where I was born for sixty-nine years, and now, because of _him_,I was back in the place I refused the think about.

I could see a group of people stood talking quietly to each other outside the church. They were clad in black; each held a rose in their hands. Some were crying, some were comforting each other, and some were just staring at nothing.

Gingerly, I got out from the car, closing the door as silently as I could. Some of the crowd turned their heads in my direction, the others not bothered. A priest stood by the doors with an elderly looking couple, and keeping my eyes on them, I walked quickly towards them.

"I'm here for the funeral?" My voice betrayed me and the statement became a question.

"Of course," the priest replied.

The couple stared at me as the vicar retrieved me a rose and hymn book.

"My grandmother was a friend of his. My mother wanted me to attend in her memory."

"Of course, dear, that's very kind. What's your name?"

Breathing out, put a small smile on. "Esme Cullen."

"Funny," the woman responded as if her mind was in a different place. "My mother spoke of a woman named Esme. Charles' first wife if I remember correctly. She committed suicide, the poor old thing."

Shaking again I willed myself to reply, "How devastating."

"Indeed," she countered again. "Mother said he never really got over it."

_Oh yes he did. _I thought, bitterly. _Edward gathered enough proof for that._

"But I'm sure he found peace with your mother in the end," I ended quietly while gathering the hymn book and rose in one hand, pulling a black cardigan around my body against the cold chill that wouldn't really affect me.

"I'm sure he did."

The woman smiled kindly at me and I smiled back, albeit awkwardly.

"You know, Esme," the grey haired woman continued, "Now looking back, you resemble her very much."

My breathing ceased and I tried to look normal. "Really?" My voice, unusually high, gave me away to myself, to the others though, I wasn't sure.

"Yes," she replied simply. "I remember the photos I used to look through as a girl. Esme Platt was in some of them, not many, but some. The one I remember the most are the wedding photos."

"He kept them?" I spluttered.

"Indeed he did. Every photo he has was kept in an album. My father didn't seem to care much for them. Just thought they were useless. "What was the point," he would say, "to keep photos that remind us of things past and don't allow us to move on into the future.""

Nodding in agreement, I made an effort to excuse myself.

"Well, It's been very nice to meet you..."

"Emily, Emily Jacobs."

"It was nice to meet you, Emily. But now I must get settled, if you don't mind, that is."

"Of course, I'll see you in there."

And as I allowed myself through the heavy church doors, I saw the flowers that were overflowing at the front of the church near the steps that led to the altar. Charles' coffin was the heart of the tribute. My heart froze at the tribute and made me feel even sicker than what I had originally felt.

He tortured me, taunted me, and in the end, I was made into the person I am because of _him_! I had lost my only child alone because he made me run for the small child's life, and now, I had met _his _daughter just outside the church. He had had a family when I could not, and it angered me.

From behind me, the small congregation began filing in. Sniffles were sounding all around me, and so I chose a seat at the back, away from most of the crowd.

The vicar was last in, his bible in his hand, his black robes flowing behind him as he stood himself at the pulpit, before clearing his throat and beginning.

"Today we are here to remember the life of Charles James Evenson; A Husband, a father, a wonderful grandfather and great grandfather."

Resisting the urge to scoff, I increased my hold on the armrest, the wood splintering slightly under the pressure.

"It shouldn't be a sad event, for today we are gathered to celebrate a rich, full life. And at ninety-nine years of age, I'm sure there's a lot to celebrate."

A pause followed and a grimace twisted my lips. Celebrate? What, the years of abuse I received from the man? Did he treat his second wife the same as me, or did he see his errors? I very much doubted the second thought.

"But first, let us pray."

I bowed my head but unshed tears of anger were swimming in my eyes.

"Merciful Father,  
>hear our prayers and comfort us;<br>renew our trust in your Son,  
>whom you raised from the dead;<br>strengthen our faith  
>that all who have died in the love of Christ<br>will share in his resurrection;  
>who lives and reigns with you,<br>now and forever.

Amen."

The words were forced and mostly choked, the woman next to me shooting me a questioning glance.

The rest of the service passed in a blur of voices, shapes and colours. I couldn't register anything until it actually came to the burial.

"We commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." I watched silently, crying inside as his relatives threw handfuls of dust on top of the coffin. I stood like a statue on the outskirts of the crowd, still processing what was happening.

I, _Esme Anne Platt Cullen, _was at my previous Husband's funeral.

Why?

Because although peace had been found with Carlisle, I could never let go of the damage he had caused me.

This for me was release.

Left with a Rose and a soft smile from Emily, the crowds dispersed and I was alone. Small hands found my shoulders, making me start.

"It's okay, Esme. I haven't told anyone."

Alice's voice was absent of her usual chirpy tone as she came to stand in front of me.

"I shouldn't have come," I whispered in reply. "Too many memories, too many emotions. I just can't take them all in."

Grasping my hand in hers, she gently led me to the top of the grave to where a cross stood to mark where the head stone would later be placed.

"Charles James Evenson," Alice read evenly, "A loving father, husband and friend. May 2nd 1891 – September 21st 1991."

"And then, Alice, you look at my grave," I spat. "It reads, February 10th 1895 – February 6th 1921. That's how much of a life I got."

"Esme-

"No!" My breathing was now uneven and my emotions poured from my very soul. "He had a life! A full meaningful life! And me? He was the reason I threw myself from that cliff in Ashland! He had a family when I could not, and it hurts." Decreasing in volume, my voice towards the end was barely audible.

"You have Carlisle now."

"I know that," I snapped. "But the fact God allowed him to walk this earth for far longer than what I would've called right, makes me so angry. What did he do to his second wife, Alice? Was she treated as badly as me? Or did he finally, when it took his wife to commit suicide to show him how foul he was, to change? Did he treat his children like he did me? Because if he did, that's exactly the reason I fled from his hands."

Shaking violently, Alice placed a calm hand on my shoulder, leading me to a small bench under an oak tree that stood barely fifty metres from _his _grave.

"Please, Esme, calm down."

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something else, but I couldn't.

"I can't," I stated, simply. "I don't know why. It's like a domino effect has just gone off in my brain and its triggering emotions and feelings I haven't felt for many years. I mean, after my change, I never truly got to grieve for a life I had lost, even if I did choose to end it. Becoming a vampire scared me, but Carlisle, well, he helped me, guided me, and now I am who I am today. But the life I lost will always be _his _fault! I wouldn't be here if it weren't for _him_!"

My bottom lip quivered and I could feel the building sobs in my chest. I wouldn't cry here, not in front of Alice, or in front of _his _grave. I had cried enough in my previous life, and the beginning of this life, to last me eternity. No more because of _him_.

"I understand, Esme. I really do."

"You shouldn't have come. I can deal with this myself."

"Esme, you need to accept help now and then."

"It makes me look weak, Alice. How I can't deal with problems myself."

"Is that was _he _told you?"

I nodded, numbly and she shook her head.

"Is that why you came, to get rid of _him_ for once and for all?"

I nodded again, but this time a lower voice said my name.

"Esme, darling."

"I thought you didn't tell anyone!" I hissed, lowly.

"Edward must've seen my vision. It must have been him that told, Carlisle."

Dropping my head into my hands, I finally allowed my emotions to take me over. A strong but soft pair of arms pulled me into a muscular body and gathered the material of his shirt up in fists as I stubbornly refused not to cry.

"Why did you come?" Carlisle asked, his voice quiet but strong. "You should've said."

"I only found out this morning. I wouldn't have come otherwise."

"Do you want to go home?"

And his question was simple but complex. Of course I wanted to go home, but at the same time, this was my home. I was born here, and it held so many memories, childhood and adulthood. Looking round one more time couldn't hurt, could it?

"There's something I need to do first."

Slowly, I wriggled out of Carlisle's hold, my composure strengthening.

With the red rose still held loosely through my fingers, I walked back to Charles' grave, placing it down directly below the cross that was soon to be a headstone. I could feel both Alice's and Carlisle's eyes on me. I could also feel the questions they wanted to ask.

"You may have destroyed me as a person, but only physically. I have love you will never have had the chance to know and I feel sorry for you. So I say goodbye for one final time and hope that you can redeem yourself wherever you are now. And above all things, I hope that you learned from your mistakes."

Feeling almost airy, I turned my back on the grave and walked towards the gate that would lead me away from the cemetery, Carlisle and Alice following close behind.

**A/N – I know that I had Edward kill Charles in one of my stories, but I wanted to do a "what if" story.**

**Anyways, please tell me what you think by reviewing! They're very much appreciated!**

**Thanks, Katie1995 :)**


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